


the waltz

by determination



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:52:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5370893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/determination/pseuds/determination
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>my friend salami-dono@tumblr suggested the idea of grillby and gaster waltzing, and i just couldn't say no to that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the waltz

Grillby closes up the pub like normal, bidding goodnight to a few straggling regulars. He flips the sign outside to  _Closed_ , then moves back to the bar. Gazing around the pub, he notes that a certain corner looks darker than the rest of the room. 

“You can come out of hiding now,” Grillby says, humor evident in his voice. Presently, a black shapeless form seems to slink into view out of the nothingness, extending upward until it has a more person-like figure.

“I was not hiding,” Gaster says with a grin. 

“Oh really?” If Grillby had eyebrows, one would have raised considerably. “So waiting in the shadows until all of my customers have gone doesn’t qualify as hiding?”

“You are the only one I want to see me,” Gaster comes closer, losing a bit of his form. “No one else would remember. No one else would care.”

The humor disappears from Grillby’s countenance. He sets down the glass he’d been wiping off and comes out from behind the bar, taking a step toward the other man. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“I know,” Gaster cuts in. His expression is sad, nostalgic. “Neither did I. Let’s not dwell on that.” He sighs, the sound seeming to come from all corners of the pub, before abruptly flickering out of sight.

Grillby startles, frantically glancing around the room. “Gaster?” No sign of movement. “Where-?”

“Ah, I remember this old thing.” The voice comes from behind Grillby, and he startles again, looking back to spot the faint shape of the other man by the jukebox. “You used to play old 90’s classics whenever I came here…”

“And you would request  _classical_  music,” Grillby says, posture slackening. He moves over to sit at the bar, watching the other man come in and out of focus. 

“It’s easier on the ears,” Gaster smiles fondly. “When did it break?”

“You have your son to thank for that." 

"Sans?” Gaster’s expression instantly brightens. 

“One evening he came in and played the same annoying song over and over,” Grillby recalls, chuckling. “Another of my regulars got so fed up, he smashed the poor machine with a chair.”

“How delightful,” Gaster laughs. “What a prankster he is… Such a good boy.” He pats the jukebox with one hand, seeming lost in thought for a moment. “Say… Will you dance with me?" 

"D-Dance?” Grillby’s flame quivers, growing a bit taller. 

“A waltz,” Gaster hums, both hands above the jukebox. “Yes, a good waltz.” He seems to be picking through something, as if there is a list in mid air in front of him, though Grillby can’t see anything.

“But- There’s no music-” Before he can get the words out, a slow, romantic tune wafts into the air. He stares, dumbstruck, as Gaster turns to face him. 

“Is this alright?" 

A faint blue burns at Grillby’s tips. "But- this is a pub, there’s nowhere to-” He begins to gesture to the tables and chairs that usually occupy the establishment, only to belatedly notice that everything had mysteriously been moved to the edges of the room. He’d only looked away for a moment or two… “How did…” He shakes his head in disbelief. “…You did this…?" 

Gaster doesn’t answer, instead moving forward and offering a hand to Grillby. "May I have this dance?”

Dark blue licks at the bartender’s face. “Wh-” He recoils slightly, earning a puzzled look. “… I don’t dance.”

“Don’t?” Gaster repeats, smiling, “or can’t?”

Grillby lets out a puff of smoke from the tip of his flame. After a brief pause, he quietly admits, “Both.”

“Then why don’t I show you how? It’s really quite easy, you know.” Gaster extends his hand a little farther, smile widening. “You wouldn’t deny this old man the pleasure of a waltz, would you?”

Reluctantly, Grillby places his hand in Gaster’s, allowing the other man to lead him to the center of the room.  "Just follow my lead,“ Gaster says, placing one hand around Grillby’s waist and taking Grillby’s hand with the other. "Small steps now, in a circular motion. One, two, three, one, two three… That’s right." 

Steadily, they fall into step with each other, and Grillby relaxes in the other man’s hold. Were the lights always this dim? He has no idea, but he’s not sure he cares. There’s something in the air, stimulating and alluring. Somehow, he manages to shift a bit closer to Gaster.

"You’re not an old man,” he says after a bit. 

“And you are not a bad dancer,” Gaster chuckles. Grillby fizzles. “It’s the truth! But I am afraid time has been unkind to me, dear friend.” As if to prove this fact, he nearly vanishes from sight, but Grillby still feels the weight of his physical form. 

“Unkind, indeed,” Grillby murmurs, a tremor coursing through him.

The two fall silent, swaying to the sound of the music. The song grows clearer at times, and with it, Gaster’s form returns. When it grows fainter, so, too, does Gaster, Grillby clinging to his invisible figure as if worried he’ll completely disappear again, leaving no trace behind.

Whether it’s to safeguard himself or for another, more intimate reason, he lowers his head against Gaster’s shoulder. The other man hums his contentment, seeming quite pleased with the position.

“I always wanted to dance like this with you,back then,” Gaster says after a long while. “Do you remember those nights I came in after closing time?” Grillby nods once. “I always wondered if I could somehow convince you to move those confounded tables and chairs and waltz with me.”

Grillby lets out a laugh. “I wouldn’t have needed much convincing.” Even without raising his head, he can picture the exuberant look on Gaster’s face.

“But I could never find the courage,” Gaster chuckles. “Funny, isn’t it? Considering how eagerly I pursued you.” The bartender can only muster another nod, words failing him. “Look at that, you’re blue again." 

"Be quiet and dance with me.”

They fall into silent waltzing again. A new song has started playing now, dulcet and soft. Grillby becomes aware once more of the dim lights, his flames casting a warm glow around them that seems to dance along the walls. It’s pleasant. He thinks, despite their circumstances, despite everything that has happened to them, he can find solace in this moment.

“Thank you for this,” Gaster says gently. “I have missed your warmth." 

"What’s mine is yours,” Grillby responds, tightening his grip on the other man. “I should be the one thanking you.”  _Don’t leave me again._

Gaster laughs quietly. “I will stay here as long as you need me. Do not worry." 

Had the words left Grillby’s thoughts? Either way, it doesn’t matter. He nods and allows Gaster to continue leading him in the waltz. 


End file.
